silly guys
Stranger Things
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
taylor price
trying on a metaphor

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
Sade Olutola
Game of Thrones Daily
Peter Solarz
One Nice Bug Per Day
$LAYYYTER

@theartofmadeline
h
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@emmalinesmind
silly guys

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McDonald's - 47 West 57th Street, NYC, NY (1989)
"A fast-food restaurant that makes the customer want to linger is something of a rarity. The McDonald's on 57th Street in New York City, designed by Charles Morris Mount, is almost unrecognizable as a member of the chain that usually boasts golden arches. Eschewing the corporate colors of yellow, red and orange, Mount chose a high-tech, electric blue and fuchsia color palette. Glass bricks, blue tiles and a reflective ceiling give the space a luminous, underwater quality.
Another departure from the fast-food restaurant formula was the installation of a carpet in the seating area, which Mount felt would soften the environment and cut down on noise. The heavily-trafficked main serving area was tiled in a distinctive blue pattern. Easy maintenance of the tiled area, which must be mopped frequently, was ensured by the installation of a slate ribbon between the carpeted and tiled area. The ribbon protects the carpet and also visually defines the curving border between the two floor treatments. The cost per square foot for this project was reportedly no more than a standard McDonald's." (front of house budget listed in 1989 dollars at $450,000)
Designed by Charles Morris Mount, Jennifer Wellmann, and the team of Silver & Ziskind/Mount
Scanned from Restaurant Design 2 (1990) by Judi Radice and The Best of Neon: Architecture, Interiors, Signs (1992) by Vilma Barr
My two yr old is looking through a book about prehistoric art and she saw a picture of those cave painting of hands and she held up her own and said "hand!" And I gotta be honest. That hit
Oh my god, this reminds me of the childrens garden of our local botanical garden. There’s one section that’s called the prehistoric lives garden or smth, and it’s full of native plants that indigenous people 2000 years ago would have eaten and used as medicine, etc. And within this little garden, there’s an adobe style playhouse, which for some reason (probably lighting reasons) has no roof, which means the rusty red dirt floor is often quite muddy.
And this series of events has led to my favorite interactive art piece ever.
Handprints.
Little tiny handprints at the bottom. Big teenager and adult sized handprints at the top. Handprints upon handprints upon handprints, a modern day continuation of an ancient tradition.
Most of the people who contributed were probably doing so because they thought it would be fun, not for any deep philosophical reason. Heck, you can tell based on the height of the larger handprints that their owners were having a jumping competition. They didn’t think about the fact that they were creating art in the exact same way the earliest humans created art. They didn’t think about the fact that humans have always been and will always be humans, and the ways we interact with each other and the world have always stayed the same in the most important ways.
But I did. I thought about it. And I am in love with humanity all over again.
There was a young man from Peru
Whose limericks stopped at line two
There once was a man from Verdun
There once was a man from the sticks Whose limericks stopped at line six. They were fine till line five Then they took quite a dive — But the problem is easy to fix If you just ignore the last line, it doesn't even follow the rhyme scheme oh god I've really lost control of this thing I'm so sorry...
There once was a man
From Cork who got limericks
And haiku confused.
There once was a man from the sticks
Who liked to compose limericks
But he failed at the sport
Because he wrote them too short
@limerickshere
There once was a fellow named Dan, Whose poetry never would scan. When told this was so, He replied, "Yes, I know-- It's because I try to squeeze as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can."
On Tumblr did lasses and lads Their way with fail poetry had. You're having your fun But you're fooling no one - It takes skill to do something this bad.

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I know for a fact that my stepmother loves me.
I know it for a fact because the vaccine for the sleeping sickness came out when I was ten, and she cried. When she was a kid, parents would have Sleep Overs whenever someone caught it, in the hopes of spread it around - children were statistically more likely to be woken up by "True Love's Kiss" from a parent or family member, after all, whereas if you caught it when you were older, things got more complicated and if you were old, you might be the last one in your family left.
(There’s more to it than that, I know, I've tried reading the papers, but I barely passed biocurse with a C+, and don't even get me started on organic curses. Those two classes were enough to kill any hope I had of becoming a fairy godperson.)
So, when the vaccine against the sleeping sickness came out, my stepmother cried, and my father got me on the list right away; I wasn't high priority, after all; I was young, there wasn't an active outbreak in my school district, and I was otherwise healthy. But they put me on the backup list anyway, so if there was one, just one available, I could get it.
When the fairy godperson's office called, my dad was at work, but my stepmother bundled me up and drove there so fast I thought we were going to be pulled over. (Later, I found out that she'd gotten an automated ticket from one of the red light cameras, a fact that she hid from both me and my dad.) They called my dad, of course, and he left work, but he also gave the okay for my stepmother to be my medical proxy in case he was delayed.
Vaccines don't last forever, and it was decided that I would be given it without him there. At 100 minutes, my stepmother would try kissing my forehead, and if it didn't work, the office would set me up for the 100 hours it would take before my dad could try.
Magic can't be ignored, but it can be tricked.
It didn't matter. At 100 minutes post-vaccine, my stepmother kissed my forehead and I woke up.
So. I know she loves me.
I find it kind of funny that human babies are so fragile and helpless and useless that natural selection went like HARD-hard on humans finding babies cute. This thing is a wailing messy resource sinkhole so please find other reason to enjoy it. And the humans that did find baby cute and invest time in them, the crazy bastards?? Lived!!
And now there’s so much spill-over from “baby cute” gene that humans see literally any “baby” creature that even slightly resembles us, like
and we’re like 😍🥰🤩🥺🥺🥺 I wanna love you so bad. I wanna make so many images of you, you are so small, just baby. I’m inventing new emotions as we speak bc I love you so much.
Like, I’m almost convinced humans didn’t even domesticate dogs bc we thought they’d be useful, we saw some puppies and it activated our Big Boi Primate Baby buttons, it wasn’t even logic time baby, it was 🥺 time.
The funniest thing about that is the fact that neuroimaging of elephant brains have proved that they think that we – humans – are cute in exactly the same way. They most likely want to squish and cuddle us the way we want to do with puppies based on the firing of their neurons.
This is so important to me.
SO important.
Actually hatebros, “survival of the fittest” means you have to make as many friends as possible in one lifetime. Naruto understands Darwinism better than you.
(These images are sourced from ethical places to interact with elephants)
kitty car 🐱

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WHEN YOU SEE THIS, SHARE 3 RANDOM LINES FROM 3 WIPS
“Tim, oh my god, I am making you a sandwich and a lasagna right now,” Bernard swears, shooting Tim a dirty look. “Possibly garlic bread too. I mean I'm not dumb enough to think you have fresh ingredients here but I know there's dry goods and something frozen I can work with. One day I will do all your grocery shopping for the rest of our lives and that is a threat.”
“I mean, uh, I guess I could eat,” Kon says a little awkwardly, tugging at the cuff of one of his gloves under the table. “Like–admittedly did not hit my daily calorie count while I was getting slingshot through the Hypertime pinball machine. Met a bunch of myself, but apparently I’m a shitty host, go figure, none of me ever set out so much as a veggie tray.”
“. . . sir,” one of the guards says in a very, very alarmed-sounding voice. “I would strongly recommend we retreat to the panic room. Or, uh. The border, maybe.”
I only have two WIPS right now so that's all you get.
Alfred didn't know how to help his boy. He had been entirely human when he left Gotham without a word to travel around the world, and had come back with a stranger hidden in his heart. The being was ruthless, pushing Bruce through training that would have killed a normal man, but even then Alfred could see that he was one no longer.
Alfred Pennyworth the cat twined around his ankles, purring loudly. Damian scooped the feline into his lap, running his fingers through the soft fur. “Alfred. I could be an artist.” Luckily the feline would tell no one of the tears he shed, and by the time Cassandra arrived to fetch him, his eyes were no longer red.
I don't know what is happening to me. I decided to write my first piece of fanfiction 5 days ago and now I've written 18000 words and have two published works. I- this wasn't supposed to happen. Send help!
via
[video description: a video of a baby fox playing in a graveyard. end description.]
its okay babe i know things are pretty bad but one day a baby fox will frolick over our bones. the rubble, the decay, the decline....it will all be beautiful again
Well my area survived the night. I few things got thrown around and we have no power but no structural damage and the water is on. I’ll take it.
Also apparently it is now an ex-cyclone which is nice.

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It's raining
It's pouring
The cyclone is stalling.
It's doing the most
To rip up the coast
And flood us all out by the morning.
they probably cant love me back in a human or even mammalian sense, but my goldfish with their smooth pea-sized brain have learned to trust that i will make them better when they are sick. i feel like crying about this often
Maybe Princess the tarantula never had anything resembling what we as humans know as emotions, but she still came out of her burrow and up to the glass when we’d talk to her and used to stare at the drawing I’d tape to her terrarium. Maybe she couldn’t even comprehend what we were, but she knew we were there to take care of her. And even if she never showed that sort of curiosity or trust we’d still love her.
Idk if Munchie the praying mantis felt love for me, but I do know he trusted me enough to climb onto my hand when offered and was comfortable with allowing me to carry him places despite me being absolutely massive in comparison to him. So that's close enough in my book.